


Living on your Knees

by snoozalicious



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, College AU, Humor, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Past Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Past Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette/Adrienne de Lafayette, Polyamory, Slow Build, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Underage Drinking, bisexual Hamilton, doesnt know much of the englishes, gender questioning lafayette, i dont like trump, ill continue to add tags as i post more chapters, just got to america, lafayette is a transfer student, some extra historical characters show up, sorry (im not sorry)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-12 01:50:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10479366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snoozalicious/pseuds/snoozalicious
Summary: Washington accidentally sets up three of his favorite students. Alternately: Our struggling university student, John Laurens, and Alexander Hamilton, a sleep deprived ball of sass and sexual frustration, take the peppy transfer student Lafayette under their wing.Updates Saturday or Sunday!





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> introductions

John Laurens stood hesitantly in front of the large double doors to the dean's’ office, debating on whether or not he should’ve downed the half-empty flask of vodka sitting at the bottom of his backpack. This was the second time this semester that he had been called to Dean Washington’s office; last time it was because a few of his teachers had been concerned about his grades, he was sure this time was no different. Washington, although sympathetic, had been stern on the fact that law school was _expensive_ and if he wasn’t going to take his classes seriously it would be a better use of his time and money to just leave.

Of course, Laurens knew this, but it was just so hard for him to pay attention in the stuffy old classroom with half his pretentious classmates getting hard ons over all the goddamn latin that showed up in their textbooks and the frequent debating that occurred whenever a professor led a class discussion. He would've preferred getting into medicine, but his father had refused to pay for college unless he majored in law.

 

Sighing, Laurens adjusted his backpack, brushed the hair away from his face, and entered the room. Surprisingly there was more than just Dean Washington inside; another student sat across the desk from the him (although there were three chairs in front of Washington's desk, all rather plush looking with high backs). This boy, tall with dark brown hair that was pulled back into a neat bun, turned curiously to John as he stepped in the room. He sat in the leftmost seat. 

 

“ _Qui es-tu?_ ” Laurens blinked, not understanding what the other boy was saying. Washington waved the other boy off, beckoning Laurens forward. As John walked closer to Washington’s desk he realized that there was, in fact, _another_ boy there as well. This one more familiar than the one who had spoken in a different language.

He sat in the center chair. He was short, short enough that Laurens hadn’t been able to see his head over the back of the chair he was sitting in (although to be fair the chairs did have very tall backs). He had long black hair and bags under his eyes. Laurens couldn’t put a name to his face, but he thought that they might have a few classes together. That or he had just seen him in the hallways.

“You’re fifteen minutes late,” the black-haired boy stated, his foot tapping rapidly against the ground. Laurens didn’t bother giving him a response, plopping down on the empty chair next to him instead.

“You’re the last one here that needs to be lecturing people about time, Alexander,” Dean Washington said, his voice unamused, “you showed up two hours late to the student council meeting last week.”

“Yeah, because they don’t even let me participate anymore!”

“That’s because you’re suspended from council activity.”

“Then why do I have to show up for the goddamn meetings? It doesn’t make any sense! I’m forced to pour hours of my time into listening to that fucking Jefferson talk about his goddamn macaroni fetish, and then I’m not even allowed to rub it in his face that we don’t have the funds to add it to the school menu because his family halved their donations last year keep their underground slave trade in business--and you know they have one! They reek of racism. I mean, sure, it’s hard to smell under all the $300 Chanel no.5 they bathe themselves in, but it’s still there. And, furthermore,” by now Alexander was on his feet, both hands on the desk in front of him and trying to stare down a stone-faced Washington, “it was completely unjust to suspend me! I didn’t even--”

“You punched the university’s financial advisor in the face, Alexander.” the black-haired boy flushed.

“Well, _yeah,_ but that prick deserved it! He wouldn’t let the council fund--”

“The Trump protest, I know. And you know just as well as I do that our university does not permit it’s funds to be used on any activity centered around politics. He was just doing his job, Alexander. You're lucky to have only been suspended from the student council,” Hamilton dropped back into his seat, crossing his arms and pouting like a toddler.

“Not allowed to fund politics my ass," he hissed under his breath, "we're a _student government._ Being excluded from the political agenda is insane," he glared at Dean Washington, as if it was somehow his fault, "you should’ve seen the way he said it too--the way he denied me. He was so _smug._ Like I was some sort of idiot. You would’ve punched him too if he was talking to _you_ that way,” the words came out as more of a grumble. 

 

“Moving on,” he gave Alexander a pointed look, “I called both of you in here today to introduce you to our university’s newest transfer student,” he motioned to the tall boy with the dark brown hair. The boy gave Laurens and Alexander an excited wave.

“‘Hello! I am Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette,” he stated his name proudly in a thick french accent, sitting with his shoulders squared and waving enthusiastically.

“That’s a mouthful,” Alexander said under his breath. Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette must’ve heard him, because he gave the black-haired boy a very confused look. “ _C'est beaucoup de mots à dire, ma bouche est pleine de mots quand je dis ton nom,_ ” Laurens blinked at Alexander as he explained what he meant, amazed by how easily he slipped into another language. Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette grinned ear-to-ear, also seemingly amazed at Alexander’s ability.

“I am called Lafayette also,” he turned in his seat, “p _arlez-vous couramment le français?_ ” Alexander sunk into his seat, a smug expression on his face.

“ _Oui, assez fluide. Je peux parler assez bien dans toutes les langues romanes,_ ” he tipped his head to the side contemplatively, “ _en fait, je peux bien parler dans toutes les langues. C'est une sorte de talent._ ” Lafayette laughed.

“Stop bragging, Alexander,” Washington muttered, rolling his eyes.

“I like this one, he is funny!”

“I’m glad you think so. Now, back to why I brought you here. Lafayette, as I’ve already said, is a transfer student. I’m sure you’re both smart enough to figure out where from.”

“Japan?” Alexander smirked.

“ _Non_ , France,” Lafayette corrected, trying to be helpful.

“It was a jo--” Washington cut off his explanation.

“Lafayette, this is Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens," he pointed to each of the boys as he said their names, then directed his attention towards them, "Lafayette's family has insisted on having private mentor's for his first year in American college, rather than be placed with random students from the welcoming committee. I picked the both of you out to be his mentors for the year. That is, if you’ll agree,” Laurens blinked in surprise.

“Only if I’m allowed to skip student council meetings until my suspension ends. Oh! And make Madison type up a report for each one I miss. It’s a better use of his time than ogling that magenta blob.” He was referring to Jefferson, of course.

“Actually, that has already been arranged.” Hamilton looked surprised, clearly expecting to have to fight Washington this, “if Lafayette has good things to say about you at the end of next quarter you’ll be taken off your suspension. Originally Jefferson was supposed to be in your place, but he figured that this might suit you better. He also had a complaint about you throwing paper airplanes at him during council meetings?”

“I’m not apologizing,” Washington sighed. Eyes glinting, Hamilton leaned over towards Laurens, a small smirk on his face. “I got three stuck in that train wreck he calls hair last time. He didn’t even notice! Went around the whole day with three paper airplanes sticking out of his head.” A smile crept onto John’s features imagining it. He didn’t know Thomas Jefferson personally, but the guy did seem like a bit of a douche.

“What about you, Laurens, are you okay with this arrangement?”

“I guess… but why did you pick me? I don’t speak french.”

“You need to take an extra curricular, or at least you should be taking one. They’ll do you good. Plus I need someone to keep an eye on Alexander. Honestly this is more of a babysitting position. Except he’s much worse than any toddler, and you don’t get payed,” Laurens couldn’t help sneak a look at Hamilton. His mouth was slack, staring incredulously at Washington, who had just the faintest glimmer of a smirk on his face.

“Alright, I'll give it a go,” the freckled boy tried to hold back a smile, “what would you need us to do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> french translations (sorry if something is weird i don't speak french so i'm putting all my trust into google translate):
> 
> 1\. Who are you?  
> 2\. It's a lot of words to say, my mouth is full of words when I say your name  
> 3\. Do you speak fluent french?  
> 4\. Yes, quite fluid. I can speak well in all romance languages  
> 5\. In fact, I can speak well in all languages. It's a kind of talent  
> 6\. No


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> breaking and entering ; coffee ; scheduling

Hamilton tapped his fingers against the side of the coffee cup, thinking over what George had asked him yesterday.

_“It should be easy enough. He’ll be living in my quarters until we can find him a more permanent room. You’ll go there when you need to find him, I’ve already instructed Lafayette that he mustn’t leave my room without an escort,” Hamilton thought it had been a pretty harsh rule. After all, Lafayette was an adult. “Alexander, I’m also excusing you from your secretary duties,” the black-haired boy happened to work as Washington’s secretary in the afternoons, “instead you’ll be assisting Lafayette in his common english. The pay will be higher, as it is his family that will be employing you for the time being, not me,” extra cash was always welcome in the Hamilton household. “John, I am entrusting you to keep watch over these two. Make sure they stay out of mischief and don’t get lost. Lafayette knows enough basic english to keep a conversation going, so I wouldn’t be discouraged about talking with him just because you don’t speak french.”_

It seemed simple enough, and the extra pay meant that Hamilton could work less hours at his night job. He could, theoretically, even quit his weekend job if he wanted to, since Lafayette’s family had nearly doubled what Washington was paying him, but he knew he’d need the money from it as soon as he was back to work per usual.

 

“What the _fuck_ are you doing here?” Hamilton looked to the side, taking a swig of his coffee as Laurens approached, clad only in a pair of loose pajama pants.

“Enjoying the view,” he quickly bit his tongue, knowing that Laurens probably wouldn’t appreciate the remark for the compliment that it was. Still,Hamilton couldn’t help but sneak a peek at the shirtless boy. Who wouldn’t, right? “I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d come over here to work out our schedule. Y’know, for dealing with the frenchie? You do remember that, right?” Laurens looked at him in disbelief.

“How did you even get in here?”

“Woah, someone’s not a morning person,” again, Laurens didn’t look amused. “You keep a key under your matt. Everyone does that. It’s so predictable. I mean, this is a fucking dorm, why else would you have a doormat if not to keep a spare key under it? I’m surprised to be the first person to have waltzed into your room unannounced--actually, I’m probably not. Bet you ten bucks there’s some creepo two doors down that sneaks in here when you’re in class and uses your toothbrush,” Hamilton looked into his coffee cup with a frown. _Empty_.

“Why would you think breaking into someone's room is okay?! Who does that? And are you drinking my coffee?” Laurens plopped down on the bar stool next to him, dropping his head against the kitchen counter. It made a loud “thunk”. _Ouch._ “What the fuck is going on?”

“Well, it’s not just _anyone's_ room, it’s _your_ room, and I didn’t get your phone number yesterday and figured this would be the easiest way to contact you. After all, we do still need to work out that schedule I mentioned--I have an opening later today, by the way. Oh! And yes, this is your coffee. It’s good too, I’ve had three cups. I made you one, but it’s probably cold by now,” he gestured to a coffee mug on the other side of the counter. Laurens looked at it for a few seconds before sitting up on his stool and reaching for the mug.

“How long have you been here?” he asked, looking down at the coffee with vague disgust, “and what the hell did you put in this coffee?”

“Let’s see it’s about…” Hamilton checked his phone quickly, “6 now, so I’d say I’ve been here a good two hours. Also there’s milk, sugar, vanilla extract, and creamer in your coffee. I’m surprised you didn’t have any of that here--creamer, I mean. I had to actually go out and buy you creamer, you know? I think that calls us even for the coffee.”

“You’ve been here for two whole hours?!”

“Well, I did leave to go get creamer, so not two _whole_ hours.” Laurens just stared at him in silent disbelief for about a minute. “I’ll take that coffee if you’re not going to drink it,” without waiting for a response Hamilton grabbed the mug from his hand, “you got a microwave?”

“You really do need a babysitter,” Laurens mumbled under his breath, “the microwave is next to the toaster, over there,” Laurens, looking too tired to fight with Hamilton, propped his arm up on the table and rested his head in his hand.

“You don’t have a roommate?” Hamilton asked, watching the coffee mug spin as he nuked it in the microwave. He pretended not to hear the babysitter comment. Laurens shook his head. The other boy arched a brow. “I thought you had to have one if you wanted to board here? It’s why I got an apartment of my own. Well, that and the board here is fucking expensive. I couldn’t afford it.” Hamilton licked his lips as the timer of the microwave went off, almost burning his tongue off while guzzling the sugar-loaded coffee.

“My dad doesn’t want me to have one. Thinks it will distract me,” the freckled boy mumbled. Hamilton looked curiously towards him, but his gaze had dropped down to the kitchen countertop. “Anyway,” Laurens cleared his throat, “you wanted to talk about scheduling? So, what? I get him Monday, Wednesday, Friday, you get him the rest? Alternate weekends?” Hamilton snorted.

“No, I’m sure George picked us because our schedules would align for at least a good amount of the week.”

“George?”

“Dean Washington, that’s his first name--George,” Laurens tipped an eyebrow upwards suggestively, “it’s not like that. I’ve just known him a long time. His wife, Martha, works for the foster agency I was registered in.” Laurens shifted, not sure if he should press. Hamilton further on the subject, although the other boy didn’t seem particularly bother by it. Hamilton dug his phone out of his pocket, quickly typed his password in and slid it over to Laurens, “give yourself a contact, I should probably have your number if we’re gonna work together. Now, onto scheduling. I have classes everyday except Thursdays and weekends. I work on Saturdays though, and I’m out of town every other Sunday. I’m unavailable past 7 on weekdays, 6 on weekends, and my class schedules are all the same; they start at 8 and are done by 12. Usually I work for Washington from 1 to 3, but I guess that time’s now going towards Lafayette’s english studies. I’m assuming we can use that time for his university tour this week--we should also give him a tour of the city,” Laurens had slid Hamilton's phone back to him, having made a quick contact. Hamilton quickly took the phone in his hands, tapping his free fingers against the countertop, “I’ll ask George about that now.” Laurens hadn’t been paying that close attention to all the information the black-haired boy had spit out.

“My schedule's pretty open,” Laurens said, watching boredly as Hamilton typed at rapid speed, “I have classes everyday except Tuesday and Thursday. They start at 10 and end at 2:30. I work on weekends,” Hamilton didn’t look up from his phone, but nodded to show that he had been paying attention.

“Alright, so George says that Lafayette’s family is cool with me putting off tutoring until next week so we can show him around the area. He also gave me Lafayette’s number, I’ll text it to you,” Hamilton quickly shared the contact he had made for Lafayette then shoved his phone into his back pocket, turning on his barstool so that he was facing Laurens, “so, are you okay with meeting up Tuesdays and Thursdays, 2:30 to 5?” Laurens nodded, looking towards the microwave to check the clock.

“Shit, it’s already 7:30.”

“Got somewhere to be? I thought your classes didn’t start until 10?”  
“I usually hit the gym in the morning, keeps me awake for those boring law classes,” Laurens got off his chair, stretching as Hamilton rolled his eyes. “Guess I’ll have to skip that.”

“Pfft. Gym,” he shot a short glare at Laurens. He was never motivated enough to go the gym and had come to hold the belief that people that actually went there were petty and body-obsessed, although he was quickly distracted from this thought. The freckled boy was still shirtless, the muscles on his back tensed as he gripped his hands over his head in a stretch, groaning. _Fuck_. Hamilton snapped a mental picture of the boy, tucking it away in his memory for later use. He fought the urge to lick his lips. At times like this he was more than grateful for his photographic memory. “I should probably head out, classes start in half an hour after all,” Hamilton cursed himself for letting his sentence start off a few octaves too high, deliberately keeping his eyes off Laurens as he slipped off his own barstool and made his way to the couch, where he had tossed his backpack earlier that morning.

“Alright, where do you want to meet up?” Hamilton shot him a quizzical look. Laurens rolled his eyes. “Today’s Tuesday.”

“Oh. Right! Okay then, we’ll meet here--”

“No. I’m not letting two guys I barely know into my apartment without any supervision.” Hamilton stuck his tongue out at Laurens.

“Fine. We can’t go to my place though… just start a group chat. We’re doing presentations in my first class today and mine’s at the end, so I’ll be able to text through the whole beginning of class,” with that Hamilton rushed out the door.

Laurens sighed, locking it behind the other boy, then began to get ready for the day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> touring the town ; hamilton and burr's tragic backstory

Lafayette laid down on the couch in Washington’s front room. He had come to America because he had thought it would be exciting, like how it was in the movies, but so far he had only been to the airport and the university that his parents had picked out for him--and he wasn’t even allowed to leave his room! Which wasn't even  _his_ room, technically.

He perked up as the door to the apartment was opened.

“Hello?” he called out, not remembering that Hamilton was supposed to come over until the short boy entered the room, looking around at everything curiously.

“I can’t believe George was actually cool with us coming over here,” he dropped his backpack on the ground and picked up a picture frame off the top of mantel of the fireplace, looking more interested in frame than the actual photograph.

“Cool?” Lafayette had heard this term a few times, and the way Americans were using it made him doubt that they were actually referring to the temperature.

“It’s slang,” Hamilton confirmed his suspicions without looking up from the picture frame (he was picking at the metal embroidery), “ _cela peut signifier beaucoup de choses différentes_ ,” Hamilton slipped into french to make it easier for the other boy to understand, “ _cela peut signifier intéressant ou chic. Il peut également être utilisé pour exprimer l'acceptation de quelque chose. C'est comme ça que je l'ai utilisé, je pensais qu'il était inhabituel pour George d'accepter John et moi entrant dans sa chambre,_ ” Hamilton put the picture frame back down. Lafayette nodded, although he was still a bit confused.

“John will soon be here?” he asked. Hamilton nodded.

“Yeah, he’s on his way over now,” Hamilton sat next to Lafayette on the couch, throwing one arm over the back. “I can’t believe that this room is so big! I was in Laurens' this morning, and it’s life half the size of this. This place has gotta be at least three times the size of my apartment! And it has a fireplace! I'd give anything for a fireplace, it'd save me big on heating expenses during the winter. It gets so fucking cold up here, you wouldn't believe it.”

“You do not live in school?” Hamilton shook his head.

“Can’t afford it. I have to work three jobs just to pay the bills for the place I’m in now.”

“You do not have to be paid much,” Hamilton shot the frenchman a funny look. Lafayette furrowed his brow, thinking carefully about how to rephrase what he had just said, since the look on Hamilton's face told him clearly that he had not phrased it right. He could understand english better than he could speak it, sadly. “What I mean is, you do not get paid a lot of money if you have to work at three different jobs.”

“I get paid well enough,” Hamilton answered, “actually, I’d probably be able to afford to live in the dorms if I didn’t--” he cut himself off, digging his nails into the palm of his hand, “...I mean, I fall asleep with the light on a lot. It really runs up the electricity bill, y’know?” Lafayette didn’t really believe this, but he wasn’t dumb enough to not notice that is seemed to be bit of a touchy subject for Hamilton.

“ _As-tu peur du noir?_ ” Lafayette decided to take on a teasing tone. The other boy shot him a glare, but the corners of his lips quirked upwards in a smile.

“ _J'aurais moins peur si j'avais quelqu'un avec qui dormir._ ” Hamilton shot him a teasing wink. The doorbell rang before Lafayette could not-so-jokingly joke about taking him up on the offer. Hamilton looked expectantly at Lafayette.

“You should probably get that. I doubt he’ll come in otherwise. Apparently he has this thing about people coming into a house announced,” Hamilton rolled his eyes, mumbling something about how people shouldn’t wait for others to open doors for them while Lafayette got up to welcome in Laurens.

 

To Lafayette’s delight the freckled boy was holding a tray of coffee, clearly from Starbucks. Although Lafayette was eager to try American cuisine, it was nice for him to see a familiar brand.

“I texted you guys like 20 minutes ago to see if you wanted any,” Laurens said, clearly catching Lafayette’s longing gaze on the coffee, “I figured that at least Hamilton would’ve responded. Anyway, I wasn’t too sure what you wanted--you can have my coffee if the one I got you is too sweet,” Lafayette nodded, leading Laurens into the main room where Hamilton was leaning back on a chair, gaze fixed intently on his phone.

“You got coffee?” he asked, not even looking up. Lafayette wondered if he had read Laurens' text or if he had somehow sensed the coffee's presence in the room.

“You’re lucky I bought you one,” Laurens sat down on the couch, placing the tray of Starbucks on the coffee table, “also, why the fuck were you talking about me to the barista? You owe her, by the way, I wasn’t going to get you a coffee but as soon as she learned my name she insisted I bring you one of these. Was convinced you’d cut off my head or something if I showed up without it,” he picked up a coffee cup with the words  “Alex <3” written on it in loopy handwriting. Hamilton looked up from his phone, rolling his eyes as he spotted the writing on the side but took the cup without complaint.

“That was Maria. I frequent the coffee shops around here a lot, I’m on pretty good terms with the employees at all of ‘em,” he took a sip of the coffee, placing his phone on the coffee table with the screen up, “Maria and I used to hook up last year. We broke it off during the summer but I still like to gossip with her when I’m in line. That place gets so hectic in the mornings, you know? It’s hard to just stand there and wait.” Laurens gave Hamilton a disbelieving look before reaching over and handing Lafayette a cold, light colored drink. _Probablement un frappuccino_.

“I didn't know what to get you... Maria, or whatever her name was, suggested this? I forgot what she called it. I don’t know a lot about coffee, I usually just make my own but _someone_ ,” he shot Hamilton an accusing look, “finished off an entire bag of coffee grounds this morning.”

“You were practically out already!” Hamilton defended. Laurens glared at Hamilton, who glared back and took a sip of his coffee in a sulky sort of way. The exchange amused Lafayette.

“All the coffee is good for me! Monsieur Washington will not drink coffee, it was hard to stay awake without the caffeine!” Lafayette took the coffee Maria had picked out for him happily. “So,” he freed his green straw from it’s paper confinement and jabbed it into his drink, “what are we going to do today? Monsieur Washington said you're going to take me touring the university? I have already seen the orientation.”

“The orientation doesn’t show you any of the useful shit,” Hamilton set his now-empty coffee cup on the table. Laurens looked at him in amazement, probably wondering how he had managed to down the drink so fast, “it’s just to show off the school, really. Make you wanna attend. We’ll take you too all the useful places; where to get the best food, where all the hot chicks hang out, where the best shortcuts are, all that sort of junk. Stuff we’ve learned over our time here.”

 

“I don’t think he’s all that bad,” Hamilton and Laurens were talking to each other in hushed tones, having just pointed out Aaron Burr, Vice President of the student government, to Lafayette.

“ _You_ don’t have to go to council meetings with the damn guy,” Hamilton shot Burr a glance before turning back to the other two with an exasperated expression, “he’s always trying to give me ‘advice’, just because I tried to ask for his help this one time. It’s always ‘talk less Alexander’  ‘smile more Alexander’,” he huffed and crossed his arms, having done what was probably a poor imitation of Aaron's voice as he air-quoted him. “Plus he’s a total cheat!” Lafayette tipped his head curiously to the side. Hamilton perked up, seeing he had a willing audience, “okay, so, we went to the same high school together, and back then there were these kids that played Yugioh in the back of the school and made bets on it and shit like it was poker. It was pretty lame, but Burr knew one of the guys that was into that and one day, after me and him--him being Burr--got into a heated argument about whether the electoral college was really a necessity anymore, but our teacher had stopped the argument before either of us could win because ‘it wasn’t relevant to the topic’. Anyway, his Yugioh-friend was in that class and got all hyped up about us “dueling” it out. And I was all like ‘fuck yeah, I can take on Burr’ because really all the guy did was sit silently in the back corner of the classroom and sit there like he was sleeping with his eyes open. That or argue with me on the most random of topics. Did you know he thinks prostitution should be legal? I mean, actually it wouldn’t be all that bad if it was--I heard it worked out well for Australia. STD and human trafficking rates have done down, which is cool, but not the point. The point is I had to listen to his stupid ass nerd friends explain the _very_  intricate rules of Yugioh dueling for at least an hour after school, and then Burr ended up beating me in the first five minutes,” Hamilton ran a hand through his hair angrily, “he _must’ve_ cheated. I mean, I don’t know how he would’ve, I barely know the game, but there’s no way he should’ve been able to beat me that fast! I bet his friend fed me crap cards.” Laurens snickered and Lafayette couldn’t help but smile as well.

“So, let me get this straight; you have a life-long hatred of Aaron Burr because he beat you in Yugioh duel when you were, what, 15?” Hamilton glared at Laurens, who had a cheeky smirk on his face.

“ _16_ , and he cheated,” he punched Laurens in the arm when the freckled boy tried to give a retort.

“You punch like a 16 year old,” Hamilton ignored him.

“Let’s turn up here, the rest of this street is just strip clubs and bars. None of them open until later,” the three had gotten through the university tour pretty quickly and were now wandering the streets nearby. 

“Will we be able to go to one of the bars this weekend?” Lafayette asked, peering down the street before the three turned a corner. H

“How old are you?”

“19.”

“Shit, you’re only 19?” Hamilton looked at him in disbelief, “that isn’t fair. You’re like, twice my height, and I’m turning 21 in two months!” Lafayette laughed, patting Hamilton's head like he was some sort of kitten. He glowered, “hey, at least I’ll be able to drink in two months. Legally, that is. You have to wait three years.”

“Yeah, the legal drinking age in the US is 21,” Laurens responded to Lafayette’s very confused look. Lafayette whined, much to the amusement of the other two boys.

“No fucking way!”

“Nice use of 'fucking',” Hamilton commented smugly, having taught the frenchman the word during their tour of the university. Lafayette glared at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> french translations (sorry if something is weird i don't speak french so i'm putting all my trust into google translate):
> 
> 1\. It can mean many different things  
> 2\. This can mean interesting or chic. It can also be used to express acceptance of something. That's how I used it, I thought it was unusual for George to accept John and I entering his roo,  
> 3\. Are you scared of the dark?  
> 4\. I'd be less scared if I had someone to sleep with  
> 5\. Probably a frappuccino


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> slumber parties ; gossip ; engagements

“I do not think John will like this,” Hamilton rolled his eyes.

“Look, you’re the one who insisted on having a sleepover in the middle of the week. I’m just making it happen,” Hamilton bent down and dug Laurens' key out from under the doormat, letting his duffle bag slink to the ground as he did so. “If it’ll make you feel better I’ll tell him we’re here.” Without waiting for a responce Hamilton took out his phone and typed out a text to Laurens, not even having to look at the keyboard as he did so. “There, happy?” he stood up, giving Lafayette an annoyed look, although the other boy could tell from the glint in his eye that he was rather excited about the prospect of a slumber party as well.

“ _Oui_ ,” Hamilton rolled his eyes and opened Laurens' door.

“Why were you so intent on having a sleepover anyway? I mean, I’m flattered you want to hang with me and all," there was a hint of sarcasm in his tone, "but don’t you, I don’t know, wanna make new friends? Ones that aren’t obligated to spend time with you?”

“I do not start classes until next week, so I have not had a real chance to meet other students--and I want to have a sleep over! My family do not let me do them in France,” Lafayette looked curiously around Laurens' room as he stepped inside, “I have always been very open about my love of people. My, um, how you say?  _Sexualité_?"

"Sexuality."

"--ah, yes, I have always been very open about my sexuality, and, as accepting my family is, they have a lot of political attention. My friends are children of their friends, they think that if I have them sleeping over it could attract the attention of the public rather negatively.” Hamilton nodded, reaching over to the paper bag filled with junk food he had brought. He took took out a white bag of powdered donuts.

“That sucks,” Lafayette shrugged.

“It does not bother me so much. When my parents make rules like these, I know it is only because they do not want to put me under the stress of a scandal. I was born in a family that had power, my life was rather easy. It is not up to me to complain of such simple things,” he set his bag down on the couch, next to where Hamilton had placed his, “of course, that does not mean that I do not want these things. They always seemed very fun!” Lafayette grinned ear-to-ear and Hamilton couldn’t help but keep a smile from flitting across his face as well, _this kid’s kinda cute._

 

“John is taking soooooooo long,” Lafayette groaned, powdered sugar smeared across his face and coating his fingers. Hamilton was half-tempted to lick it off his cheek; partly because he wanted to see how the frenchman would react and partly because Lafayette had eaten two thirds of the bag of donuts and now they were gone and Hamilton was still hungry.

“It’s 5, we’ve only been here for like 20 minutes,” Hamilton was sitting on the floor with his back resting against the couch (which Lafayette had draped himself over, the tall boy took up the whole couch--his feet hung off the end). He reached into his pocket and looked at his phone. Laurens had texted him something about being at the gym, “he says that he’ll be home at 5:30, and that he’ll kick us out if we’ve made a mess of his apartment.” Hamilton looked around. It was fairly clean; they had dumped out the bag of junk food on the coffee table, but otherwise Laurens' room had remained untouched. “So,” Hamilton stood up, “we’ve got half an hour to look through Laurens' shit. C’mon!” He grabbed Lafayette’s arm and attempted to drag him off the couch.

“Nooooooooooon, don’t make me get up,” Lafayette gripped the armrest with one hand and shoved his head into the couch cushions.

“Get up, you big oaf,” Hamilton grunted, pulling on Lafayette’s arm with all his strength. It didn’t do much. “You’re the one who wanted to have a sleepover, remember? Snooping through your friends shit is like, a must-do!” he huffed, re-adjusting his grip and trying once again to get the frenchman off the couch, “c’mon, we can do other things too--get some gurl talk in before Laurens shows up and spoils the fun.”

“‘Gurl talk’?” Lafayette lifted his head from the couch to look inquisitively at Hamilton, although he made no move to get up. Hamilton was sure it was more to annoy him than because he actually wanted to continue laying down on the couch .

“Y’know, gossip,” he gave up trying to get Lafayette off the couch, “it’s not a very common expression, so you don’t have to worry about learning it.” Lafayette sat up on the couch, now intrigued.

“I would like to do the 'gurl talk',” Hamilton chuckled.

“Alright, but you have to at least help me steal all of Laurens’ blankets and pillows so we can make a pillow fort in the living room,” Lafayette nodded obediently, following after Hamilton like a puppy as he walked into Laurens' bedroom. Laurens had one of the nicer dorms; it had three rooms, a decent sized common room that was connected to a tiny kitchenette, two bedrooms, and one bathroom with a small but clean shower.

“How do I start the gurl talk?” Hamilton snooped through Laurens' room--the only bedroom that looked like it had been lived in. It was cramped. Laurens had a twin-sized bed set up in his room, along with a dresser and bedside table. It was hard for Hamilton and Lafayette to walk through it without having to bump into furniture and squeeze past each other.

“You don’t need to keep calling it that,” he made his way to Laurens' dresser and began sifting through the drawers, “and there’s not, like, some specific rule about what you’re allowed to talk about. It’s just gossip; you ask questions, talk about things you like, get to learn about the other person’s interests and what you have in common. What's going on in their life. All that junk.”

“Like a date?”

“No--well, _yeah_ , but it’s not supposed to be romantic. Anyway, are you seeing anybody right now?”

“I am seeing you?” Lafayette sounded very confused, “why this question all of the sudden? I thought we were doing gurl talk?” Hamilton dragged his hand across his face.

“That _was_ the gurl talk. I was initiating it. And, for the record, wasn’t asking if you are literally _seeing_ anyone. If you’re seeing people other than me in this room I’d be seriously worried. If someone asks you if you are ‘seeing someone’ they’re really asking if you’re dating someone.”

“Ooh,” Lafayette sat down on the edge of Laurens' bed, “then no, I am not seeing anyone.”

“Really? You don’t have someone pining after you back in France?” Lafayette quickly looked up the word “pinning” on his phone, feeling that constantly asking Hamilton for clarifications was taking away from the “gurl talk” experience.  
“Oh, yes, I am sure that I do,” Lafayette smirked a bit, “but I haven’t gone out with anyone since my engagement.” Hamilton spun around, loosing interest in Lauren' clothes. 

“You’re engaged?” he sounded more curious than surprised. Lafayette’s smirk widened, proud to have caught the boy's attention.

“ _Oui_ , well, I _was_. It has been arranged by my parents. We were never real lovers though, she is very young and I think of her as a sister. Her name is Adrienne. Maybe one day I will invite her here! She would love America,” Lafayette smiled. He was glad breaking off his engagement with Adrienne hadn’t damaged their friendship, she was his best friends, “what about you? Are you seeing anyone?” Hamilton shook his head.

“I’m in the same boat, I guess,” Lafayette narrowed his eyes in confusion, “it’s an idiom. It means that I’m in the same situation; I haven’t been with anyone since my engagement either," Hamilton paused, then shook his head, "well, I mean, I’ve _been_ with people, but I haven’t dated.”

“ _You_ were engaged?” Lafayette said incredulously, twice as surprised as Hamilton had been about his engagement. Hamilton laughed, turning back to Laurens' drawers and shifting through the fabric.

“Yeah, to a girl named Eliza. We were dating in high school. We both got totally wasted at on our graduation party. I proposed using a ring pop--it’s this candy in the shape of a ring--and we were halfway to the county clerk’s office when I got pulled over for drunk driving.” Lafayette stared at Hamilton with his head tipped to the side. The black-haired boy had been speaking in a lighthearted tone, but Lafayette got a strange vibe from him--like he would rather not be talking about this, despite the fact that he had brought it up.

“Were you in love with her?”

“No,” Hamilton shrugged, “actually at first I had been dating her to get to her sister--shitty, I know," he avoided looking at Lafayette's eyes, seeing the disproval in them, "and I abandoned that idea once I actually started dating Eliza. She was a little ditzy at times--no, that's not the right word, I don't mean to imply that she was stupid. Because she wasn't," Hamilton's eyes narrowed as he tried to think of how he wanted to phrase his next words, "our minds just worked... differently. We had a lot of fun, but we’ve always wanted different things in life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> french translations (sorry if something is weird i don't speak french so i'm putting all my trust into google translate):
> 
> 1\. Yes  
> 2\. Sexuality


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> borrowed clothes - jerry maguire

“Oh my God,” Laurens groaned as he walked into his room. Hamilton and Lafayette had turned the “living room” (it wasn’t a real living room, just the area where Laurens had set up his couch and TV) into a giant mess of pillows and blankets. “I thought I told you guys not to make a mess.” He set his keys down on the kitchen counter, watching Hamilton wiggle through the small entrance to what looked to be a blanket-cave.

“Well hello to you too,” Hamilton drawled, standing up and dusting himself off, “y’know you should really vacuum. The state of your floor is atrocious.”

“Why do I keep letting you into my house,” Laurens pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Excuse you, I let myself in. If you really didn’t want me around you would’ve moved the spare key after I told you I knew where it was,” Laurens wouldn’t admit to it, but Hamilton was right.

“Tch, I’ll have to put it on top of the door frame next time. Somewhere I know you can’t reach it,” he patted Hamilton's head, smirking.  
“Fuck you, Laurens! You’re just freakishly tall--the both of you,” he looked accusingly at the pile of blankets. Lafayette stuck his head out of the front opening that faced the TV.

“Hey! Do not drag me into this!” he pouted. Laurens rolled his eyes, heading to his bedroom and closing the door behind him. He still couldn’t believe that he had agreed to let the two stay the night; although he had the sneaking suspicion that they would’ve showed up whether or not he had given his consent.

“Could I borrow a shirt?”

“Jesus, fuck!” Laurens turned on his heels, having already stripped off his shirt and tossed it onto his mattress, looking through his (suspiciously messy) drawers for a clean one. “Don’t you ever knock?!” the freckled boy flushed brightly, feeling exposed.

“Quiet down, it’s not like I haven’t seen you shirtless before,” Hamilton rolled his eyes, sitting down on the edge of Laurens’ bed and letting himself bounce a bit. Laurens tried not to get distracted by the way his long hair swayed with the movement.

“Don’t you have your own clothes?” Laurens quickly picked out a shirt and slipped it on, wanting to get himself covered.

“I brought one, but Lafayette told this really good joke--it doesn’t translate well in english or else I’d tell it to you--and I ended up spilling soda all over it while I was laughing. Pity too, it was a nice shirt,” he sighed, leaning back into the bed. Laurens quickly grabbed a shirt for Hamilton, trying to avoid looking at him. He was doing this thing--this thing where he had his head tilted back to look at Laurens' pillows. His shoulders were pressed into the mattress, his hip raised barely an inch off the fabric of his blankets with his shirt riding up just the tiniest bit.

“Take this,” he tossed a plain black shirt towards him.

“I look better in green,” Hamilton said, sitting up and looking at the shirt Laurens had chosen for him, “and this is gonna be _way_ too big for me.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Ugh, fine, but I’m not wearing pants. It’ll just make me look like an overgrown toddler.”

“Hey, you’ll finally look the way you act,” Hamilton stuck his tongue out at the freckled boy.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny. But, you know, I would stop comparing me to a child if you’re gonna stare at my ass every time you think I’m not looking. People are gonna get the wrong idea,” a sly, triumphant smirk made it’s way onto Hamilton's face. Laurens burned bright red.

“I'm not--” Hamilton pressed a finger to the other boy’s lips, then shoved him towards the door.

“Out, out! Unlike you I prefer actual privacy when I’m getting dressed!”

 

“This movie is so cheesy,” the three boys were huddled inside the pillow-cave that Lafayette and Hamilton had built. The inside was stuffed with pillows, Laurens was amazed they were all able to fit inside. Lafayette had insisted on watching _Jerry Maguire_ ; Laurens had heard of it before, but he had never seen it and didn’t realize how bad it would be. “Why are we watching it again?”

“I have a friend that told me that I should,” Lafayette responded. He was lying on his stomach, his head resting on his crossed arms, “he told me about a Jerry Maguire, how do you say… video store? He says that it is "art",” the frenchman turned back to the screen, brow furrowed, “ _cela ne me paraît pas l'art._ ”

“The Jerry Maguire Video Store is a totally different thing. It’s doesn’t have anything to do with the movie, really. Well, I mean, it’s centered around the movie, obviously,” Hamilton, who was sitting with his bare legs crossed, spoke up. He hadn’t been watching the movie, instead he had been intently typing on his phone for the past hour. Laurens and Lafayette shot him a curious look. “It’s an homage to the VHS stores of the past. I’m surprised you know of it, actually. It’s more of a west coast sort of thing, I only know about it by chance--came across it on a forum,” he hadn’t looked up from his phone while speaking.

“Hmmm,” Lafayette hummed, turning back to the movie, “it makes sense. My friend, he lives in California.” Laurens inched himself to the back of the blanket-cave, towards where Hamilton was sitting. Curious, he peeked over his shoulder, looking at his phone.

“What are you typing?” Hamilton tilted his phone to the side so that Laurens couldn’t see his screen. He looked up, but continued to text, albeit at a slower pace now that he wasn’t looking at what he was writing.

“And you call me nosy,” Laurens rolled his eyes, Hamilton answered his question anyway, “it’s an essay for one of my classes. I had some muse for it, so I figured it’d be good to get a rough draft down while it’s still in my head.”

“Which class?”

“Just a little something for my economy class, it’s based on a classroom discussion we had about how larger companies react to environmental issues. It would’ve been easy, but my professor started putting limits to the amount of pages we can turn it. No more than 15! Bullshit, right? She’s just lazy. Last time she didn’t even read my whole paper!” Hamilton's brow twitched, “she just _gave_ me an A. I know I shouldn’t complain, don’t question a good thing and all that, but I should’ve gotten a B- at at very best!” Hamilton caught Laurens' confused look and sighed. “There were too many loopholes in it, and I went on, like, six different tangents that had nothing to do with the topic--the class, even! The last four pages weren’t even fully edited.” Laurens watched Hamilton click his phone off, relaxing into the pile of pillows behind him. Laurens nodded

“So, economy?” Laurens laid back next to the black-haired boy, glimpsing at the TV screen every now and then. Hamilton hummed an agreement.

“Thought it would be a smart class to take, I wanna to get into law, or politics. Maybe both. Something where I can make a difference, you know? An impact? This place is best known for it’s law courses. That’s what you’re aiming for, right? Trying to be a lawyer or some shit? I think George made an offhand comment about it once. I’m surprised that you’re into law though, you seem like more of an artsy kind of guy to me,” Laurens blinked, a little surprised.

“Actually, I kind of wanted to get into art. I do some sketching in my free time.”

“I’ve heard that there are some good live drawing classes around here, you taking any of those?”

“I did once, but I don’t do live drawing anymore--not around here, at least. I had some bad experiences my freshman year,” he chuckled, “NYC isn’t known for having the most tame live models. I’d rather not play roulette with my innocence.” Hamilton smirked.

“Aaaah, so you’re still innocent,” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Shut up,” Laurens smirked back, a little uneasy, punching him softly in the arm.

  

Laurens awoke to Lafayette’s foot ramming into his hip. Wincing, he sat up. He looked to the side, blinking when he didn’t spot Hamilton; the two had fallen asleep talking to one another. Or, at least Laurens had assumed Hamilton had fallen asleep. Lafayette let loud a pig-like snore, his brow furrowed. He was laying on his back, tank top riding up his chest. Laurens reached over and tugged it down before crawling out of the blanket-cave and getting a glass of water.

“--you’re kidding me,” Laurens blinked as he passed by his bedroom, hearing muffled voices coming from inside. He looked at his water, slowly sipping it as he inched quietly towards the door. Inside he could hear Hamilton’s hushed voice. _He must be talking on the phone._ “Look, Sundays are… that’s not fair--no! Fuck, man, we both know I didn't like the way this arrangement was--... I'm sorry, but--...” Hamilton was trying hard to get a word in with whoever was on the other end of the phone, when he spoke again it was very softly and Laurens had a hard time hearing through the door, “look, I this is just the way it has to be… but…” Laurens pressed his ear against the door, accidentally tapping his glass against the wood as well. Cold water sloshed out of the glass, splashing against the door and falling onto his feet.

“Fuck,” Laurens quickly placed the half-empty glass down and raced to the kitchen, grabbing a paper towel and rushing back over to clean the mess off the old hardwood floor. He didn’t need Hamilton slipping on it.

“What’s going on?” speak of the devil. Laurens looked up. Hamilton must’ve heard him, because he had ended his call and opened the bedroom door, looking curiously down at Laurens with an almost worried expression.

“I--uh,” Laurens tried to think up a quick story, not wanting to admit he had been eavesdropping, “I slipped,” he gestured towards the nearly-empty glass of water. It wasn’t too far from the truth. Hamilton gave him a skeptical look, but didn’t question it.

“Need any help?” Laurens shook his head.

“Nah, it’s fine, I’ll clean the rest of it up later,” he stood to his feet, feeling more confident knowing that he hadn’t been caught, “what are you doing up? Couldn’t sleep?” He figured Hamilton wouldn’t tell him what was really going on, but it was worth a shot. Hamilton paused for a second, then nodded a “yes”.

“My mind was still on that paper. I tend to hyper-focus on things like that--essays, or just any sort of work really. It’s hard for me to put a project down until it’s been finished. I did get it done--well, mostly done. I’ll have to edit it down a few more times, but it’s only 17 page, so it shouldn’t take that long. Anyway, I should probably head to sleep while it’s still dark out,” he looked passed Laurens' shoulder at the blanket-cave, “I’m not sleeping in there though. There aren’t nearly enough pillows to be comfortable--you should really look into buying some more. It’ll help with your neck pain.”

“How do you know I get neck pain?” Laurens was actually surprised that Hamilton was able to tell this. It wasn’t that severe, but Laurens often got chinks and aches in his neck.

“Your posture. I mean it’s not _horrible_ , but it’s pretty obvious you type with your laptop on your lap and only use one pillow when you sleep.”

“But it’s a _lap_ top, aren’t you supposed to type with on your lap?” Hamilton rolled his eyes.

“I mean, that’s what it’s designed for, but multiple studies show that looking down at your laptop for extensive amounts of time is horrible for your posture. I always type with my laptop on my desk. Phones are also an issue, but there’s no way in hell that I’m giving my phone up.”

“I didn’t realize you cared so much about posture,” although now that Laurens got a better look at Hamilton he started to notice a few things about the way he held himself; his shoulders were straight, and although Hamilton had gripped about him going to the gym the other day with was obvious that he worked out at least a little. The bridge of his nose was flushed pink, as well as his cheeks--but not in a blushing sort of way, like they had been rubbed with a rough towel, and Laurens came to the sudden realization that Hamilton must usually wear makeup. Hamilton must’ve caught his gaze because he quickly turn his head to the side, letting his hair fall in front of his face.

“What can I say? Appearances are important, at least if you're planning to get anywhere in life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> french translations (sorry if something is weird i don't speak french so i'm putting all my trust into google translate):
> 
> 1\. This does not seem like art to me


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> finally some smut ; hamlaf bro time

Hamilton shifted, feeling an arm slung across his waist. He sat up suddenly, startled. _What time is it?_ He felt around frantically for his phone, calming a little bit once he had his hands grasped around it. He clicked it on, the screen reading “7:30”.

“Shit,” he hissed under his breath. He looked to the side. Laurens lay next to him on the bed, fully dressed--Hamilton wasn’t sure whether to be thankful or disappointed. The image of a shirtless Laurens popped into his head, half-awake with his eyes slightly lidded, and he quickly brushed it aside, knowing he had to focus on getting ready for the day since his classes started in half an hour. He slipped away from Laurens and headed to the bathroom. He snooped around the bathroom, looking for a towel while thinking of the previous night. He didn’t have a lot of friends, he wasn’t the best at making them, and he had actually found Lafayette’s stupid slumber party rather fun. _I wonder if Laurens will let us do it again?_ He felt as though he had gotten at least a little close with the freckled boy. He grinned as he found a towel.

Biting his lip, Hamilton began to slip out of his clothes, trying to ignore the half-hardon he had woken up with. He caught a wave of John’s scent as he slipped off the black shirt Laurens had let him borrow, and for the second time that morning images of the freckled boy, shirtless, surfaced in his mind. This time he didn’t push them away, letting himself indulge in the fantasy as he stepped into the shower.

He remembered back when he had been planning out schedules with Laurens; the way his muscles tensed and shifted as he stretched, the way his loose sweatpants rode low on his hip, the v-line of his hips being prominently displayed, all too inviting. Hamilton recalled what he had wanted to do. How he had wanted to sink to the floor, tease Laurens' sweatpants down, take his cock in his mouth and make him beg for an orgasm. Hamilton wanted to taunt him, to deep throat him slow, painfully slow.

Alexander rest his forehead against the wall of the shower, bringing one hand to his mouth while the other worked his shaft swiftly, knowing that he didn’t have time to draw out his release.

Hamilton thought of how John would lose it, how his resolve would break and how he would grab his hair--roughly--and fuck his face, use him, how he would praise his mouth and his skill and-- he began to imagine John intruding on his thoughts, being able to hear them from the next room over. Hamilton imagined Laurens slipping into the bathroom (Hamilton vaguely wondered if he had even remembered not to lock the door), joining him in the shower. Taunt muscles pressing against his back, full lips pressed against the nape of his neck, his hand moving along Alexander's cock, and--

“ _John_ ,” the name slipped off Hamilton’s lips in a soft, nearly inaudible moan as he finished, cum splattering against the floor of the shower and quickly disappearing down the drain.

 

“This place is amazing!” Hamilton watched in amusement as Lafayette nearly backed himself into the street while trying to look up at the top of a skyscraper. Laurens was busy today, but that didn’t stop Hamilton from taking the frenchie out for a walk. “The noise is so strong here, I love it!” Hamilton laughed.

“Is it that different from Paris?” Hamilton asked, grabbing Lafayette’s arm and dragging him away from the street. Lafayette nodded, although it was obvious that he found it hard to keep his attention on Hamilton with all the movement going on around him.

“Paris is... it's like a lake, you see? It is big and beautiful, and in a similar way to that of New York. But here it’s like a river! Everything moves and changes!” Lafayette sighed, “ _c'est très beau._ ”

“You’d make a decent poet,” Hamilton commented, keeping his hand attached to Lafayette’s sleeve incase the taller boy got distracted and walked away. Hamilton had nearly lost him earlier.

“I studied a little poetry--it is common for people of my status to do so, that and Adrienne loved it very much. We were educated together, you know? I was decent, she was much better.”

“I thought that Adrienne was a lot younger than you? Did she skip a few grades, or were you just held back?” Lafayette shook his head.

“We were educated privately, there is a word for it in english--”

“Homeschooled?”

“ _Oui_ , we were homeschooled together at her parent's house. It was very nice, although it could get a bit... how you say, stuffy? She had many younger brothers and sisters, we were the oldest. I was sent to a private school for my last two years of high school,” Hamilton chuckled.

“No wonder you ended up being best friends with her, it doesn’t sound like you had many other options,” Lafayette gave him and indignant but well-humored glare.

“She would have been a close friend of mine regardless. I will have to introduce you two someday to prove it! You would like her very much, she is very fashionable. She does a lot of sewing, I tried to learn from ‘er but it turns out my hands aren’t meant for such detailed work,” Hamilton stood up straighter, looking a bit smug,

“You think I’m fashionable?” Lafayette rolled his eyes.

“I did not intend to stimulate your ego. I have just noticed that you dress rather expensive,” he chuckled at Hamilton’s pout, ruffling the shorter boy’s hair, “ _vos cheveux sont très à la mode, pas assez d'hommes le laissent longtemps ces jours-ci._ ”

“ _Je vous remercie,_ ” Hamilton spoke bitterly, glaring at Lafayette as he straightened out his hair.

 

“Yoga?”

“ _Oui_ , or pilates.”

“Really, you do that shit?” Hamilton gave him a skeptical look. Lafayette shrugged.

“What is the American saying? Don’t hit it until you try it?”

“It’s “don’t knock it ‘til you try it”, b--”

“Yes, that is the one. As I said, don’t knock it ‘til you try it. It is very relaxing for your muscles and it is very helpful with your flexibility!” Hamilton rolled his eyes.

“I can’t imagine you doing yoga. You’re like, a freaking giant! Can you even fit on one of those small ass yoga mats?” Lafayette flicked Hamilton's nose.

“Of course. I’m not _that_ big. You are just a very tiny man, Hamilton. There are plenty of people that are much bigger than me. Washington is much taller than I am--”

“Okay, don’t compare yourself to G-Wash. Seriously, there are bears smaller than him,” Lafayette squinted his eyes for a second.

“Do you mean the bear animal or--”

“Yes,” Hamilton cut him off, amused.

“Lafayette!” Lafayette and Hamilton looked so the side, Hamilton freezing when he had spotted who had called out to the french man.

“Fuck.” Thomas Jefferson waltzed down the sidewalk towards them, James Madison and Aaron Burr following behind him like ducklings.

“ _Salut mon bon ami! Désolé, je n'ai pas pu parler avec vous cette semaine, je viens d'être si occupé. Vous savez comment c'est, n'est-ce pas?_ Oh!” a cat-like smirk slipped it’s way onto Jefferson’s face as he finally decided to acknowledge Hamilton, looking down at him with a hand on his hip, “Hamilton, hello. I didn’t see you down there.”

“ _Bouffe ma queue calisse de--_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> french translations (sorry if something is weird i don't speak french so i'm putting all my trust into google translate):
> 
> 1\. It is very beautiful  
> 2\. Yes  
> 3\. Your hair is very fashionable, not enough men leave it long these days  
> 4\. Thank you  
> 5\. Hello my good friend! Sorry, I could not speak with you this week, I just got so busy. You know how it is, yes?  
> 6\. Eat my cock you fucking--


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hamliton just needs to get laid ; mac'n'cheese

“I hate him.” Lafayette watched Hamilton pace the length of his room--hands held behind his back, brow furrowed, jaw clenched tightly. He had his hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, a few insubordinate black strands escaping the elastic band and curling near his ear. Lafayette had dragged him back to his and Washington’s room after their run-in with Jefferson.

“I’m sure he's not that bad?” Hamilton turned on Lafayette, “ _ne me jette pas, chienne_ ” written all over his face. He cocked one hand on his hip, a dark fire burning in his eyes. Lafayette found it rather exciting.

“Don’t get me started, bitch. That man--child, I should say--has had it out for me since the second I began running for student council. He’s a republican bastard, did you know that? Not that I like to discriminate between political parties--I mean, I’m not moderate or anything--I’m liberal, we all know that I’m liberal, it’s not like I’m exactly quiet about it, but I believe that it’s stupid to put someone in a box just because of their political views--which I’m sure is what Jefferson does to me, mind you. I’ve met republicans that I’ve liked. We’re not "besties" or anything but I’m not gonna go around preaching that it’s a sin to have more conservative views, well, except for when it comes to social issues, I'll fight people when it comes to those--but, look, what I’m saying is that he’s very _republican_ , you know?” Lafayette wasn’t too sure what Hamilton was talking about, but nodded his head anyone so that he would continue, “he’s got all the stereotypes down to a T: he’s rich, pompous, southern, has stupid hair, is close minded, and I swear to God he’s about as rude and condescending to all the women on the council as he is too me! That is when he’s not shamelessly flirting with them! Do you know how fucked up that is? That we let some sexist slime take control of our student government? Did you know that the only ice cream flavor he likes is vanilla? Plain _fucking_ vanilla! Who the fuck even eats that shit? What the fuck!” Hamilton fell back on Lafayette’s bed, glaring up at a ceiling, “and the worst part of it all is that he’s actually educated--he has some wacko, but viable, support for all of his beliefs. Shit that doesn’t rest upon his religious values. I hate it! I hate _him_.”

“Alright, alright, so he _is_  that bad,” Lafayette, who had already been sitting on the bed, conceded, absentmindedly intertwining his pinky finger with Hamilton’s hair. Hamilton didn’t notice, too focused on massaging his temples, obviously stressed.

“You’re damn right he is. God, he's awful. He’s hot too, which only makes it worse,” Lafayette quirked a brow, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards. Hamilton groaned, “don’t go around telling people that. It’s not like I want to suck his dick or anything--okay, well, maybe a little? But not like in a romantic kind of way, in a “you’re fucking sick and I just need to get this out of my system” kinda way. I don’t want an actual relationship or anything with him, y’know? I don’t know if I’d actually date a guy--any guy, not just him. I pity the poor soul that he ropes into a relationship. But, well, I know guys, y’know? I mean, for christs sake _I’m_ a guy, and I don’t think I wanna risk putting up with some of the bullshit fuckery us guys get into. Not that I’m against guys dating guys or anything! I mean, I’m not saying that I’m straight, I like dick every once in awhile. Sorry, that’s probably a weird thing to say to someone, isn't it? It's just--ugg," he ran a hand through his hair, disheveling his ponytail, "fuck. I should just shut up,” Hamilton rolled around so that his face was shoved into bed. His voice was muffled as he continued to speak, by Lafayette was able to make out most of what he was saying, “see? This is what that asshole does to me! Just being around him drives me insane! God!” he sat quickly up, eyes narrowed in determination, “I want some fucking mac‘n’cheese.”

 

“Again, why are we eating this?” Lafayette watched Hamilton pour yellow powder into the bowl of pasta they had made, followed by milk and an obscene amount of butter.

“Jefferson. I swear this is all he ever eats--ask Madison. This is the whole of his diet. Talking about him made me crave it. It’s pretty good, not the fancy shmancy high-class sort of shit you'd expect someone like him to eat--I’m surprised Washington had it here actually, I figured he would have a more…" Hamilton stirred the mac'n'cheese mixture together, looking for the right word, "sophisticated palette.”

“ _Qu'Est-ce que c'est?_ ” Lafayette stared at the gooey orange noodles with mild disgust. Hamilton chuckled.

“I told you, it’s mac’n’cheese. Actually, I’m fairly sure that mac’n’cheese is an old french delicacy--”

“I know what _macaroni et fromage_ iz,” Lafayette scowled, “but this,” he poked the orange noodles, quickly shaking the goopy cheese off his finger, “this is not _macaroni et fromage_.” Hamilton smirked.

“You’re right, this isn’t " _macaroni et fromage_ ". _This_ ,” he emptied the pot of mac’n’cheese into two separate bowls, trying to mimic Lafayette's thick accent when he spoke in french, “is _mac’n’cheese_. It’s all american, baby. Didn’t you come here for this short of shit? The “american experience” and all that?” he stuck a spoon into Lafayette’s bowl and pushed it over to him, “welcome to our culture, Marquis de Lafayette.”

 

“That was disgusting,” Hamilton snorted in laughter.

“You ate two whole bowls of it,” Lafayette clenched his stomach dramatically. After their meal the two had returned to Lafayette’s room. Hamilton was shifting through Lafayette’s half-unpacked clothes while the frenchman laid back on his bed, watching the shorter boy idly.

“I did not say that it was bad! It is... just quite different that what I am used too--I do not think that I have ever eaten something with cheese powder in it before! Except for finely grated parmesan, but I think that is much different,” Hamilton rolled his eyes.

“Rich people,” he muttered, tilting his head curiously to the side as he pulled out a strange article of clothing from Lafayette's suitcase, not being able to tell what it was at first glance. It looked different from the rest of the Lafayette's clothes, being a strikingly different color and texture. Hamilton's eyes widened in surprise as he realized what it was. It was a dress, although it seemed oddly cut for a girl. Hamilton realized with a start that it seemed like it was made for--

“ _Merde!_ ” Lafayette lunged off the bed and quickly snatched the dress away from Hamilton. It was a warm cream color, looking smooth against Lafayette’s dark skin as he held it defensively to his chest. His face had taken on a dark, embarrassed color. “ _Ce n'est pas le mien!_ ” Lafayette quickly exclaimed, tossing the dress quickly away from him and onto his bed. “I--I--” he searched frantically for some sort of explanation, looking around the room as if there was somewhere he could hide himself. Hamilton wore a cool, composed face, raising his hands up defensively.

“It’s cool,” Lafayette’s hand twitched, and he still looked deeply embarrassed, “people can wear whatever they want,” he caught the defiant look in Lafayette’s eye, knowing that he was about to argue that the dress wasn’t his, “really, it doesn’t bother me. Whether or not it’s yours.” The frenchman pursed his lips, still looking uncomfortable. There was a few seconds of awkward silence before Hamilton spoke up again, "I guess this makes us even, huh? I won't tell anyone you've got a dress tucked away in your drawers and you don't tell anyone that I secretly wanna bang the Jefferson?" he laughed awkwardly, quickly realizing that wasn't the route he should've taken, "wait! Shit, no. I'm sorry, that wasn't a cool thing to say. Um, look, let's just forget that happened, okay?" More silence. "I mean, we don't need to forget about it if you don't want too. The dress I mean, not what I said. What I said was dumb..." again, more silence. Lafayette wanted to speak up, he was clearly as uncomfortable with the situation as Hamilton was--maybe more so, but he wasn't too sure what to say.

" _C'est bon ... peut-être que nous pourrions en parler une autre fois?_ " it was a weak reply, but Lafayette felt bad watching Hamilton scramble to try and fix a mistake that was clearly his fault. He reminded himself to tuck the dress away with his other more feminine attire once Hamilton was gone--he had a suitcase under his bed with clothing of similar caliber, the cream dress must've just gotten misplaced.

Hamilton scooted over to the bed, not looking at Lafayette as he picked up up the dress and examined it carefully, “this looks nice actually, _cher_ ,” it had black embroidery, thick ruffles, and a weight to it that made it obvious that the material used was high quality. 

“ _Oui_ ,” Lafayette started hesitantly, slowly slipping back into his usual persona as he continued to speak, “Adrienne made it, you see. She’s so talented, you know? I told you about Adrienne, didn’t I? She’s been sewing for such a long time, everything she makes looks so beautiful. I should show you some of the things she has made for herself. She can pull off the most stunning looks!”

“Do you have any pictures saved on your phone?” Lafayette nodded vigorously, pulling his phone from his back pocket and sitting next to Hamilton, messing around with the apps for a few moments before shoving the phone excitedly in Hamilton's face.

“Look! This is her Instagram, she posts pictures of her work here all the time. You should follow it, I’ll tell her to follow you back. Oh! See!" he was leaning over Hamilton's shoulder now, pointing enthusiastically at the different pictures Adrienne had posted of herself, "look at the one she is wearing there--she just finished that costume last week! Isn’t it gorgeous?” Hamilton nodded and let out a silent, unnoticed breath, glad that Lafayette was acting more like his usual cheerful self.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> french translations (sorry if something is weird i don't speak french so i'm putting all my trust into google translate):
> 
> 1\. Don't get me started, bitch  
> 2\. What is it?  
> 3\. Macaroni and cheese  
> 4\. Shit  
> 5\. This is not mine!  
> 6\. It's okay... maybe we could talk about it another time?  
> 7\. Expensive  
> 8\. Yes


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> out on the town ; short chapter

“Joooooooohn,” Laurens glanced at Lafayette for a moment before returning his attention to his phone.

“You’re supposed to be writing an essay,” he responded dryly. Lafayette whined.

“But _Joooooooohn_! It’s _friday_!” Lafayette looked between Laurens the blank document open on his laptop, “I have all weekend to write the essay! We are young! We should be out having fun!” John rolled his eyes, ignoring Lafayette’s pestering. The frenchman pouted, placing his laptop carefully to the side and sliding over to Laurens. “C’mon, let’s go explore the city!” he grinned, poking John in the side. Laurens shifted away from him, not looking up from his phone.

“I thought you wanted help with your essay? That’s why you called me over, remember?” Lafayette huffed.

“Yes, yes, but Alexander can help me with that when I see him tomorrow. I just needed an excuse because you would not have agreed to come over if I told you I wanted to go out!” Lafayette smiled cheerfully. Laurens looked up from his phone, annoyed, but found the proud look on Lafayette’s face too hard to be stay mad at.

“Fine,” Laurens sighed, putting his phone away in defeat, “what do you want to do?” Lafayette grinned, jumping immediately to his feet and grabbing Laurens' arm, bounding towards the door and dragging Laurens with him.

“Follow me!”

 

“Lafayette,” Laurens looked around in confusion, “Hamilton and I told you that you can drink, right? Legal age is--”

“I know, I know. 21,” Lafayette pouted, although he continued to walk down the street with enthusiasm. It was the street they had passed on the first day Hamilton and Laurens had toured him around the city--the one lined with neon-lit clubs and bars, “but, I looked it up on the internet, and you can still go to clubs as long as you are over 18--and I am! I’m just not allowed to drink alcohol.”

“Well,” he sighed, “you’re not wrong, I guess.” Laurens looked around. He didn’t mind going to clubs, actually one of his friends, someone he had met when he first came to New York, worked at one not too far from where he was walking with Lafayette. It wasn’t the nicest place, but he could usually get his friend to sneak him a few beers. _Maybe I should just take Lafayette th--_ Laurens blinked in surprised when he realized Lafayette was no longer walking by his side. “Shit,” he hissed under his breath, trying to spot the frenchman over the crowd. It was late, so there weren’t _that_ many people wandering the streets, but there was still enough that it took Laurens a minute or two to spot Lafayette. He had wandered to the entrance of a nearby club, talking excitedly with the bouncer. “Lafayette!” Laurens yelled over the crowd and pushed his way towards him, but by the time he got to the club’s entrance Lafayette had already disappeared.

“You looking for the french guy?” the bouncer, the one Lafayette had been talking to, grabbed Laurens’ arm just before he could walk away. Laurens nodded, shrugging the bouncer’s hand off him. “I just let him inside, nice kid--he a friend of yours?” Laurens hesitated for a second before nodding.

“Yeah…" he looked up at the blinking sign of the club's name but couldn't make it out, either way Laurens knew that he'd never been inside before, "could I…?” he gestured towards the heavy door the bouncer was standing in front of.

“Cover fee’s 30 bucks, and I’ll need to see your ID,” Laurens groaned and the bouncer looked a little apologetic. He quickly fished out his wallet, handing the bouncer 30 dollars and flashing his student ID. The bouncer nodded, holding the door open for John after giving him a bright blue wristband with “underaged” written on in in bold black lettering.

The room Laurens had entered was small, practically empty aside from a coat rack, and dimly lit. There was a hallway in front of him that split off two different ways, loud music coming from either end and playing in sync. One of the corridors was lit with pink lighting, the other with blue. Laurens bit his lip, a little disoriented because of the lighting and unfamiliar atmosphere. He tried to think of which hallway Lafayette might’ve gone down.

The entrance behind him opened as the bouncer let a small group of people in, and Laurens made the split decision to go down the right corridor--the one lit with blue lights. It was a short corridor, smelling faintly of alcohol, perfume, and sweat, with a door at the end.

Laurens opened the door without much thought, preoccupied with thinking about how he was going to wring Lafayette’s neck once he found him. Laurens’ eyes widened, all thought of Lafayette abandoned as he took in the room he had just walked into. The flirty laughter of women was being drowned out by the heavy, rhythmic music. Dull blue lights flashed, and there was an almost smoky texture to the air. Men and women alike flocked around flashing platforms where men in revealing “uniforms” danced around silver poles.

“Oh,” the word came out of John’s mouth in a choked gasp. He felt very much like a deer caught in the headlights. He knew that this was a club, yes, but he hadn’t realized it was a _strip club._ He swallowed hard, making to turn back for the door when his eyes caught on one of the strippers.

He was center stage, slim with fitting black leggings with lace-up sides that left very little to the imagination. He had his back pressed against a silver pole, one hand over his head, grasping the pole, while the other was brushing a strand of black hair away from his eyes--eyes that were soon fixated on Laurens. The freckled boy froze in place, confused for a second before realization finally washed over him and--

Within seconds Laurens had turned on his heels and burst right back through the door he had come through.

“John!” he looked up to see Lafayette coming out of the door from the corridor that was lit in pink, looking both elated and a little flushed. Laurens approaching him in long strides, grabbing him roughly by the arm and dragging him towards the entrance, “John--”

“We’re leaving.”

“Bu--”

“Now.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> strip club ; herculES MULLIGAN

Hamilton’s eyes flew wide open as they came into contact with familiar hazel green. Even through the flashing lights he could tell who they belonged to.

His grip tightened on the silver pole behind and him. He prayed that Laurens didn’t recognize him, that maybe the dim lighting had obscured his features, but he could tell from the way Laurens bolted right back out the door that he had indeed been able recognize him. _Shit._ Hamilton felt his mind began to buzz with panic. He was brought back from in the moment as a hand lightly touched his shoulder. He looked to the side, seeing his friend and coworker Gouverneur Morris.

“I’ll take center stage,” he said quietly, nudging Hamilton away from the pole. Hamilton nodded, gracefully stepping away to take Morris’ spot in one of the less populated corners.

 

Hamilton stared down at his phone, feeling his head pulse along to the loud music, only a thin door that barring the employee’s dressing room from the roar of the club. He pressed two fingers to his temple, wondering if Morris had any Advil to spare. He had just finished his shift, expecting some sort of text or phone call from Laurens, possibly even Lafayette, but no one had tried to contact him. It made apprehension stir in his stomach.

“What happened out there?” Morris, a little pink from working the poles, strode into the dressing room. His tone wasn’t upset, rather curious. Hamilton bit his lip.

“Someone saw me.”

“No shit sherlock,” Morris laughed, taking a seat next to him on the frail plastic bench, it bent a little under his weight, “you got half the club after your ass, and I’m talking employees too! Shit, you’re like the main attraction out there.” Hamilton shot him a half-hearted glare, still upset but unable to turn away praise when it was offered.

“No, I mean, someone _saw_ me. Someone I know--a guy I…” Hamilton’s brow furrowed, “work with? It’s a little complicated. I think we might be friends too?” He groaned, massaging his temples again, “I doubt we are now.”

“Oh,” Morris looked a little surprised, then shrugged, a calm smile settling on his features, “I’m sure it won’t be that bad? I mean, it’s not like it was Washington--it wasn’t Washington, right?” Hamilton laughed at the worried expression that crossed Morris’ face, punching him lightly in the shoulder before standing up and stretching a little.

“No, I’d have pissed my pants if G-Wash showed up here,” he walked over to his locker, anxiety still nipping at him, but less so than it had been earlier, “you don’t know the guy. His name’s Laurens... actually, I think I might’ve pointed him out to you before?” he messed around with the dial of his lock. Hamilton considered Morris one of his closer friends but the two didn’t really hang out at school.

“Laurens? That’s a weird name,” Hamilton rolled his eyes, pulling out a shirt and jacket from his now open locker.

“You’re one to talk, _Gouverneur_ ,” Morris stuck his tongue out at Hamilton as he changed clothes, “I’m pretty sure I pointed him out to you though? John Laurens. Curly hair? Freckles?”

“Nice ass?” Hamilton rolled his eyes.

“Of course that’s the one thing you remember,” Morris laughed.

“Hey, no fair! The only reason I remember how nice his ass is because you spent a solid ten minutes drooling over it when you pointed him out to me!” Hamilton rolled his eyes again, not bothering to debate with Morris on the fact since he was telling the truth.

“What do you think I should do?” Morris shrugged.

“Go for it,” Hamilton shot him a quizzical look, “I mean, you clearly think he’s hot, and it’s been ages since you bragged about getting your dick wet. I’m sure you’re due for a good fuck,” Hamilton threw his shoe at Morris, both annoyed by his crassness and embarrassed, “hey!” Morris blocked the shoe easily, laughing at the faint flush on his friend’s face, “it’s solid advice! It’s not like you’re opposed to being with guys, right? Didn’t you have that fling with a dude back in freshman year?” Hamilton didn’t answer, “anyway, if Laurens is desperate enough to turn up in a place like this then he obviously needs a good lay as much as you do. And it’s not like you couldn’t get him under the sheets if you tried. He’s already halfway there, I bet,” Hamilton glared at Morris who held up his hands defensively, “what, you’re a good looking guy! I’m just saying, I’d be all over you if I swung that way.”

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t swing my way,” Hamilton began putting on his shoes. Morris quirked a brow, wanting an explanation. “I mean, yeah, I think he’s hot--seriously, you should see him shirtless, _damn_ \--and I’ve tried flirting with him a bit, nothing serious, y’know? Nothing too forward, but I can tell that he gets… I don’t know, weird about it? Sometimes I think he’s into it, but I can’t tell if it’s just because he thinks it’s friendly banter.”

“I never took you for a self-doubter.”

“That’s just it, usually I’m not!” Hamilton ran a hand over his face, “shit, I don’t know. I’ve just been a little stressed out, it’s getting to me I guess.”

“Like I said, you need a good fuck.”

“Maybe,” Hamilton gave a huff of a laugh, “I wouldn’t mind it. It’s not like he doesn’t know that I find him attractive. At least I think he knows? I’ve dropped some hints, subtly slipped it into conversations every now and then but, like I said earlier, he gets weird about it. He doesn’t say anything, but, well, it’s one of those _things_. He shifts in his seat or avoids eye contact or starts fiddling with a button on his shirt. Maybe I’m reading too much into it. But, I just get this… vibe? Y’know, _that_ kind of vibe. Not the good kind. I’m not sure if he’s just nervous or…?”

“Oh.” Hamilton nodded, sitting back as he finished tying his laces. Morris was quiet for a few moments before shrugging. “I don’t know, man. Why don’t you talk to that friend of yours? Tough guy that works at the bar? He’s good with this sort of shit, right?”

“Mulligan?” Morris nodded. Hamilton’s eyes widened, surprised he hadn’t thought of that himself.

 

“Hammy! Good to hear from you!”

“God, don’t call me that,” Hamilton glared at his phone, knowing Mulligan was smirking from wherever he was.

“Aww, you’re no fun anymore. Anyway, what’s up?” Hamilton was quiet for a second as he past a creepy looking dude on the street, gripping the strap of his backpack tightly, squaring his shoulders and quickening his pace a bit, “Alex? C’mon, man, you’re not drunk are you? I still gotta work for another hour but I can call Liz and have her pick you up?”

“No, I’m sober. Just… a friend saw me at work,” he could hear Hercules hiss from the other end of the line.

“Shit, you talk to them yet?” Hamilton shook his head, momentarily forgetting he was talking on the phone. He quickly realized his mistake.

“Not yet. And he hasn’t tried to talk to me either or anything.”

“You sure he saw you?”

“Definitely, he high-tailed it out of there the second he caught sight of me.”

“Yikes,” there was a short pause, “what’s the guy's name? Do I know him?”

“No, he goes to my university. I just met him a few weeks ago, Washington assigned us to watch over this french exchange student--remind me to tell you about him sometime, his name’s Lafayette, you’d like him.”

“Lafayette?” Hamilton blinked at how surprised Mulligan sounded.

“Yeah, weird name, right? I’ll explain it to you some other time,” Mulligan was quiet, so Hamilton continued on, “I need advice on what to do--do you think I should just ignore it? What if he starts telling people? I’ve been pretty lucky on not getting noticed,” the strip club was pretty far from Hamilton’s university, it was a little obscure as well, the only other person from his school he’d ever run into there was Morris.

“I’d talk to the guy,” Mulligan said carefully, clearly having put thought into his answer.

“You sure?”

“...Yeah. Rip off the band-aid, y’know? If your seeing him all the time then you can’t just ignore it forever. Besides,” there was a hint of cockiness in Mulligan’s voice, “I gotta a good feeling about this.” Hamilton narrowed his eyes skeptically, slowing his strides a bit.

“Alright,” he said after some mental debate. He trusted Mulligan’s judgement. Despite being a bit of an idiot sometimes, he was a rather suave guy and knew his way around people; Hamilton had put his trust in him before, and he hadn’t fucked him over yet. He could practically hear Mulligan’s grin through the phone.

“Awesome, man, tell me how it goes!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> going out of the country for the next two weeks, so no update next weekend unless i can manage to get internet :( hope you enjoyed this chapter though!


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